


Starlight

by spookyscullyy



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyscullyy/pseuds/spookyscullyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>scully is left alone with mulder's shirt and her own thoughts | during mulder's abduction</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight

-  
You taught me the courage of stars before you left.  
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.  
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.  
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn’t help but ask  
For you to say it all again.  
I tried to write it down  
But I could never find a pen.  
I’d give anything to hear  
You say it one more time,  
That the universe was made  
Just to be seen by my eyes.

Saturn- Sleeping at Last   
-

She imagined herself as starlight, breaking into a million miniscule particles and drifting through the air untethered and unhurried. Maybe she would rather be dust, swirling and shifting in beams of light, gathering together in neglected corners and abandoned nooks, as unwanted as she felt. Even snow would be a relief; to shoot down from the clouds above and weep unintelligible tears, pouring down and down and down until unfeeling feet crushed every fragment of her or she melted and joined the earth completely. Her soul would be more at peace in these violent transformations than it was currently was resting in her tired breast. 

She shifted in his bed and pressed his shirt so hard into her palms the cotton became embedded in her skin. Bile rose in her throat, accompanying the crushing pressure of moisture fighting to escape through her eyes. No. She could allow herself a moment of stillness, a single instance of indulgence to keep her fragmented control in place, but no tears. She would not cry. If Scully cried, she would disappear entirely, thrust into whatever void had swallowed him. She could not allow that. Just one moment of stasis was enough. 

She took in a deep shuddering breath, and kept going until she thought her ribcage would snap. The fragrance of his shirt weaseled it’s way into her guilty brain, making her shake with regret as she realized how deeply dependent she was on the sensation. Unbidden, her thoughts began their nightly rotation of almosts and could haves. She could have turned down the assignment. She could have ignored his call and stayed on the date. She could have left all connection to him in that damned basement office. She could have said something. She almost said something. She almost reached over and touched his cheek. She almost leaned in. She almost stopped him from leaving her. She could have saved him. Fuck. Like clockwork, her body revolted and ignored her wishes, staining the pillow with her grief. 

When had this happened? When had she given him everything she had? At what point did she stop thinking of herself as Dana Katherine Scully and begin identifying foremost as Agent Scully, partner of Fox Mulder? When she had walked into his office, propelled by curiosity and striding with a fierce purpose that attempted to compensate for her naiveté and youth? When she had given up Christmas Eve with her family to go ghost hunting in an old ramshackle house? When she had bandaged his wounds and checked for damage, fingers whispering over bruised skin, lingering half a breath longer than was medically necessary? When he cradled her in his arms, fingers tracing planetary orbits between her shoulder blades, communicating vitality through whispered words and soundless glances? 

In truth, she knew there was no single moment. They had become intertwined over time, twisting and grasping at each other like vines until hurting one caused pain in the other. They had stumbled almost blind into a vast and unending war and took up weapons together, shielded only by each other and the force of their combined belief. She had given, and they had taken, pulling and picking and stripping her of everything. Almost everything. She had always had him.   
He thought that everything was his fault: every missed dinner and skipped family gathering, every broken bone and purpling bruise, every child they passed on the street that would never be hers. When he looked at her, she knew he only saw the ghosts of all that he had robbed her of. When she looked at him though, she saw the gleaming truth of everything he had bestowed upon her without even realizing. Before him, stars were just burning gas farther away than she could properly grasp, and people were just beings to be tolerated and possibly scoffed at. She never looked twice at the night sky, or savored a piece of pie or a song on the radio. She had been so filled with a hunger to please, a crawling, grasping, insatiable need to be right and to succeed. She had been driven yes, but not happy. Without him, she would have worked her life away, never satisfied but always striving. She would have been very successful and achingly empty. 

He had opened up the whole world. He made every fact she knew heavy with meaning and significance. He illuminated the world with a joy and enthusiasm that sometimes blinded her. She was often forced to disagree with him just to find a place in this sharp new existence. He forced her to examine every belief, everything she took for granted. He had paid attention to things and people she never would have glanced at. The universe suddenly became infinitely more precious, as if it had been crafted specifically for them. How could she hold the things she had lost against him, when she had gained so much? 

Again, she thought of his voice, gently pleading and willing her to understand: "But, maybe they are souls, Scully. Traveling through time as starlight, looking for homes."

She hoped his soul was resting in the stars he loved so much. She hoped that he had found his sister, and that their light would illuminate the truth she was trying so desperately to uncover. She couldn’t wish for anything else, because peace and reunion was what he deserved, even if he only found it away from her. She couldn’t let herself wish that he could join her. If he wasn’t starlight, that meant he was suffering, and there was nothing she could do about it. Better to envision him settled and content among the heavens. Besides, she couldn’t believe his words. If he was right, then her soul would be restless for a long while now: Scully’s home was Mulder.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written during a snowstorm when i couldn't get the image of scully crying alone out of my head. i wrote this in an attempt to stop my own tears from coming, honestly.


End file.
